


i just ask you to be patient

by haloud



Series: open up my eager eyes [3]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Communication, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-16 17:44:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21040217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haloud/pseuds/haloud
Summary: The sex is fantastic between the three of them, but as the relationship starts to deepen, Michael, Alex, and Kyle decide to spend a night together without it. It doesn't go exactly as planned.





	i just ask you to be patient

**Author's Note:**

> title from the heart is a muscle by gang of youths. takes place somewhere loosely in between "what yields the need for those who lead us" and "the bookend to the weirdest of weeks."
> 
> this fic is not for redistribution without my express permission

“You stayin’ the night, Doc?”

Michael’s had a beer or two more than Alex or Kyle, and his voice is satisfied and muzzy, his eyes half-lidded and sleepy as he considers Kyle from across the couch. His head is leaned against the back cushion, his legs stretched across Alex’s lap, his toes just inches from Kyle’s thigh. The room isn’t particularly warm, but there’s a warm and happy flush across his cheeks, and he smiles faintly while he waits for Kyle’s answer.

Kyle licks his lips. “Yeah,” he says, “I thought I might. No work tomorrow, so. As long as there’s room, I mean.” It’s half a joke, but it falls flat, Kyle’s voice lilting just a little too much towards an honest question. In fact, he’s got a toothbrush and a change of underwear out in a bag in his car, but he thought it was better to play it smooth, just in case.

He’s stayed the night with them before, of course, but this is—different. Different entirely from passing out in a heap after several rounds of impressively athletic (if Kyle says so himself) sex. The deliberate tenderness to this, the open question and demand for an answer, himself presented as a fill-in-the-blank.

“’Lex? Whaddya think?”

Michael turns his little smile and his adoring eyes to Alex’s profile, and Alex turns his way, matching him look for look. He slides his hand slowly down the outside of Michael’s thigh.

“I’d say there’s plenty of room, as we’ve proven before,” Alex responds, half a laugh behind his warm voice. It’s got Kyle blushing too, and he picks at the label of the empty bottle beside him, and is glad that Alex and Michael are too wrapped up in each other to look his way.

“Sounds like you’re spending the night, then,” Michael says, and his toes creep closer to wiggle right against Kyle’s leg—and now Kyle is caught, right in the crosshairs of their attention. It’s a lot. It’s almost too much. Something deep in the core of him wants him to bolt for the hills, save himself before it’s too late, before he lets himself get any deeper just to get shut out in the end.

Alex pats Michael’s knee, and Michael draws his legs up to his chest to let him up. Alex likes to shower first, Kyle’s learned, and Michael likes to lounge around naked while he waits for his turn. For the first time, Kyle considers what place he might have in that evening routine. He wouldn’t mind showering last. It would give him more time to admire Michael’s body, the way he might twist and preen under Kyle’s gaze. It would give him time to stretch the days aches out of his body before rewarding his muscles with the hot water.

Before heading to the shower, Alex slides his hand into Michael’s hair and briefly massages his scalp as he nuzzles further into the couch and almost purrs with pleasure. Then he leans over, places gentle fingers under Kyle’s chin, and lifts his head up for a brief, lingering kiss. Kyle’s mouth goes slack with surprise, but Alex doesn’t take advantage to lick inside or deepen the kiss at all, just draws back with a smile on his face and, without another word, heads toward the bathroom.

The pipes rattle as the water stars up, and under cover of that noise, Kyle asks, “You’re sure about this, Guerin?”

The answer he gets out of him might not be 100 percent reliable, since he’s happy drunk and drifting towards dozing. Still, it’s nice to hear.

Michael shrugs loosely and says, “Why not? You’ve been hangin’ around plenty lately, might as well keep it going. Not so bad having you around.” He bares his teeth in a grin. “Makes me look better. Funnier….handsomer…”

“Man, shut up.”

Michael cackles as Kyle tosses one of the couch pillows at him, and as soon as it leaves Kyle’s hand Michael uses his powers to throw it back into Kyle’s face. Kyle swats it to the ground, but Michael takes advantage of the moment of distraction to pounce on top of him, bracketing him with all four limbs, staring directly into his eyes from only inches away. Kyle stills and lets himself be watched. Those brown-gold eyes don’t move, don’t duck to watch Kyle’s mouth when his tongue darts out to lick his lips, don’t glance behind him to watch the bathroom door for Alex to come out.

A long, long moment passes. But Kyle doesn’t feel any of the anxiety he should feel with Michael Guerin hovering over him like this. There’s an alien pinning him to the couch staring at him like he can see into his brain—and hell, maybe he can. But Kyle keeps his breaths slow and even and relaxed and lets it happen. Even enjoys it. Michael _should _know, if he wants to look, the way Kyle’s thoughts all tangle up inside of him, eager and nervous, confident and unsure that this is the right thing to do, that he’s really wanted here.

Quiet and close, Michael says, “You really want this, Valenti? You wanna stay?”

Kyle swallows and says, “I do.”

And in the space of the next breath, Michael climbs off of him. The next breath that fills Kyle’s lungs comes in too cold and too thin in comparison. The aliens run hot; it’s common knowledge at this point. But knowing is different to _feeling, _and it’s new enough to Kyle that it still goes to his head and turns him dizzy and flushed.

While Kyle tries to wrestle his senses back into coherence, Michael stretches toward the ceiling; he arches his back like a cat and groans theatrically, a smug smile still fixed to his face. As he stretches, he reveals the strip of skin just above his waistband, and, laughing, Kyle takes the bait; he pulls him in by his belt loops to slide a kiss across his navel, tasting his skin. Sex is deliberately off the table tonight, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to let Guerin parade around like he’s got the upper hand, here.

Michael lowers his hand to ruffle the back of Kyle’s hair, and Kyle raises his gaze to look at him. A current of electricity flows through Michael and into him, and he shivers lightly. How does Alex stand it, being under that spotlight all the time? Too quickly, Kyle has to look away, kissing Michael’s stomach again just to have a reason.

“Don’t want the hot water running out with all three of us showering. I’ll head out to the Airstream,” Michael says, dropping his hand away.

“We could just double up.”

Michael laughs a low, honeyed laugh. “I like the way your mind works, Valenti, but I think that’d be breaking a rule tonight. I don’t know about you, but I’d definitely get carried away.”

“Okay, you might have a point.”

“Put a pin in it, though. That’s the kind of thinking we need around this place.”

Michael grabs a towel from the closet and throws it over his shoulder. He ruffles Kyle’s hair again as he walks past him towards the door, and that simple gesture—it just makes Kyle smile to himself, right there, in a tiny stretch of alone time before Alex shuts the water off and a couple minutes later comes out of the bathroom. He’s still smiling, in fact, when Alex says “all yours” as he maneuvers to the bedroom, and the look Alex shoots him is both confused and fond, but he doesn’t ask.

Every little domestic moment, from Alex’s kiss to Michael’s touch, makes that smile impossible to stuff down, even as Kyle stands alone under the spray of the shower. God, he hasn’t felt like this in years; if he’s being honest, not since high school, watching Liz do her homework across a booth from him at the Crashdown, too distracted by the fall of her hair and the way she chewed her thumb to do his own work. Now that he’s older and wiser, that feeling only feels more precious and more fragile.

He showers quickly, cognizant of Michael’s warning about the hot water and even more so used to getting clean quickly by necessity. He dries himself off just as quickly, and heads for the bedroom in just a towel.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Alex whistles when Kyle comes into the room, and Kyle preens under the attention, flexing for Alex’s benefit.

“Sweats are in the bottom dresser drawer if you want something to sleep in. Both mine and Michael’s,” Alex says, and then he grins and leans back on his hands to watch Kyle walk across the room, and Kyle makes sure to give him a good show.

Dry and dressed, Kyle climbs into bed, but Alex doesn’t lay down. His brows furrow; his mouth goes tense.

“Where’s Michael? I don’t hear the shower running,” he says.

“He said he would shower in the Airstream to save hot water. He’ll probably be back in a bit, I’d guess.”

“Hm.”

Several minutes pass awkwardly, though, Alex only going tenser and tenser as he watches the door. Kyle strains to hear any sound, any footsteps or opening doors, that might signal Michael coming back to the house, but there’s nothing.

Maybe…maybe this is normal? Kyle reaches over to the bedside table to check his phone for maybe a text saying Michael’s decided to sleep out there instead. It’s not bizarre for someone to want space when they sleep sometimes; from what Kyle knows of Michael’s history, he’d be surprised if he didn’t have nightmares, and if those nightmares didn’t hit harder when he falls asleep without being worn out by pleasure. It’s a logical thing, by extension, that he might be worried about Kyle seeing him like that. But there isn’t a single notification on his phone about it, and a bubble of anxiety pops inside him.

The pillow smells faintly like Michael’s fancy conditioner, the only personal grooming expense he allows himself; Kyle’s ace in the hole if Michael ever tries to rag on him about his skincare routine.

It’s okay to be worried about a change like this. Michael should be here, in the middle of them, so Kyle can tell him that himself. If Kyle’s presence is too stressful, if the bed is too crowded, then after tonight, they’ll know, and they can adapt. It’ll be fine. They already have a little data to work with—whenever they’ve passed out together after fucking, Michael’s almost always been the first one asleep, his arms clinging on to whoever is closer, his nose jammed into their shoulder. Kyle even got drooled on once, while Alex laughed at him openly and refused to do anything but plaster himself all along Michael’s back, adding his weight in to make Michael impossible to move.

But still. It’s different, going to bed without the excuse of being too fucked-out to move. It’s okay to be worried about a change like this.

What if it isn’t worry keeping Michael away, though? What if something has happened, and he’s in danger? Kyle doesn’t want to have that thought—he screws his eyes closed tighter against it, but Alex’s anxiety is infectious, bleeding into the air between them, and Kyle can’t help but picture what might have happened—something silent but deadly, and they’ll find his body on the porch in the morning—something alien spiriting him away, and they’ll never see him again, and Kyle’s mind, carefree with the assumption there would be more to come, would have already discarded the sense memory of that last touch, the hand resting on his knee, the lips pressed gently to his own.

He tries to smash down the panic inside of himself. It’s just paranoia. That’s all it is.

It feels so much more like reality, though, when Alex leans over jerkily to reach for his leg and the sock and liner he’d laid out. Kyle sits up, sliding across the bed to be beside him.

“I’m going to check on him,” Alex says without being asked, voice clipped and authoritative. It’s the voice of a soldier.

“Wait.”

“I’ve waited long enough already.”

“Alex.”

Kyle puts a hand on his arm. Alex’s entire body tenses even more than it already was. Everything in the coiling of his muscles says that he wants to throw Kyle’s hand off, but he restrains himself.

“He’s probably just taking a moment by himself or, I don’t know, maybe he’s just looking for his phone. I’ll go check, and if it’s anything more I’ll come right back and get you.”

“No,” Alex snaps. “I can’t just keep sitting here. I can’t.”

“I know. Just…please. Let me.”

Alex swallows, the only motion that betrays a hint of nerves or emotion in his face as his eyes search Kyle’s. After a brief assessment, he grits out, “Just make it fast.”

And Kyle nods in response, standing up and wasting no time heading out the door and across the yard. He knocks on the Airstream door, but it’s unlocked, so he doesn’t bother waiting for a response before coming in.

He didn’t expect to see this, though.

Guerin is laid out on his bunk, still fully dressed, hair still dry, his legs crossed at the ankle, his arm behind his head underneath the thin pillow, infuriatingly casual. All at once, Kyle doesn’t want to be here. He feels huge, unwelcome, out of place in the narrow walkway of the trailer. He crosses his arms, but it doesn’t do anything at all. He doesn’t want to be standing here, looking down; he doesn’t want Guerin to look at home here when it’s not where he belongs. The only thing more out of place than Kyle is the shoes still on Guerin’s feet.

“What the fuck, Guerin,” is all he can manage.

“Shouldn’t you be in bed? Is something wrong?”

“That’s what I came out here to ask. What are you _doing?” _He can’t keep the hurt out of his voice, the stung disappointment.

“What does it look like?”

“It looks like you decided it would be funny to give your boyfriend a panic attack just for kicks,” Kyle snaps. “Why are you just _out _here? We’ve been waiting for you—we were _worried._ Especially Alex.”

It’s possible he’s laying it on a bit thick. Those words certainly get a reaction out of Michael—he shoots upright like he wants to run straight through Kyle and back into the house—to wherever Alex needs him to be. But as Kyle watches, he stops himself, as the slightly manic light goes out of his eyes.

Kyle doesn’t feel any satisfaction at the wan tinge to Michael’s face, at the weary lines on his face, at the way he’s fully dressed and uncovered, like he’s sleeping rough instead of in the same bed he’s slept in for almost ten years. Like he’s punishing himself. He didn’t actually come out here to lash out or lecture, but he doesn’t understand _why, _what changed between the sitting room and the Airstream’s bunk to transform Michael from tender and laughing to cold and unhappy. It’s half that confusion that puts the snap in his voice and half a sort of half-guilt, like the space they said they had for him was just Michael’s, and he’s taken it from him like a cuckoo pushing other birds out of the nest. An interloper.

“I mean, you could have at least _said _something to let us know you weren’t fucking dead. Or abducted. Or anything. I mean, have you forgotten what our lives are like? Come the fuck on.”

Michael snaps back, “Why the hell do you _think _I’m out here? There’s three of us. And you’ve shoved that thermometer up my ass enough times to know—”

“I have never once taken your temperature rectally. You would enjoy it too much.”

Michael doesn’t even react to the jibe. He curls his fingers around the edge of the thin mattress. His tone is angry, but his head is bowed so low between his shoulder blades Kyle can’t see anything but the top of his head.

“It may not be summer anymore, but I’d still just make the both of you miserable and sweaty all night. Not a great first impression of domestic life. I’m _fine _out here, Valenti. It’s fine. I didn’t want to fucking rub it in, alright?”

Softening his voice, Kyle takes a step closer and says, “Did you think Alex would agree that it’s _fine _for you to be out here instead of in there with him? With—with us? _Especially _without saying anything.”

Michael’s knuckles go white as he clenches his fists around the mattress. “He—”

“If you’re more comfortable sleeping out here than with an extra person in bed, you could have just _said _so. You—” Kyle takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. It was Michael who brought him into this relationship—it was Michael who kept pushing the whole time Alex was pulling, and made him want this, want it _all. _It _hurts _now to see Michael hurting, to see Alex hurting because of it. Still, he can’t hold back his own feelings; anything less would only make things worse. He says, “You were the one who asked if I was staying the night. I thought—well. I figured that meant you _wanted _me to. I’m a big boy; you could have just told me to hit the road.”

“No.” Michael’s head jerks up again. “Doc—Kyle. Before, I always just thought you were a douche, that you were taking advantage of a forgiveness you didn’t deserve. But I was wrong. I don’t want you to leave.” His eyes are fucking unfair, huge and wet and beseeching. “Don’t go,” he says, a note of pleading behind his voice that Kyle couldn’t ignore even if he wanted to. “I don’t want you to go.”

“I don’t want to go either. But I won’t—you and Alex need each other, okay, and that’s more important to me than how I want this thing to go. I won’t get in between you, okay? That’s not fair to any of us.”

“That’s not what this is at all. You’re a—a good man.” Michael swallows. “Tonight—It’s not like when we’ve been fucking. Most of the time then I just pass out without thinking. But tonight, you had no reason to put up with me. I didn’t want to…take up too much space. Drive you off before we even get started.”

“Well,” Kyle clears his throat. He’ll never live it down if his voice cracks now. “Next time use your words. Asshole.”

“Here’s some words for you.”

It’s Michael’s turn, now, to reach out and reel Kyle into him, to press a kiss that’s scratchy from his stubble to the smooth plane of Kyle’s stomach. And it’s Kyle’s turn to bury his hand in the back of Michael’s hair, wrapping around those soft curls, running them through his fingers.

Michael looks up at him and says, “I do want this to work. But I’m—I’m literally so fucked up, Valenti. You don’t even know. But you deserve to know before you involve yourself in,” he gestures vaguely at himself, “all this.

Kyle smiles fondly and rolls his eyes up to the ceiling, then he flicks Michael gently on the forehead. “We’re all fucked up, dumbass. You’re not special.”

“Excuse you. I’m extremely special.”

“You’re one of a kind; I’ll give you that much.” Kyle reluctantly lets go of Michael’s hair and takes a step back. “We should go back to the house. We’ve kept Alex waiting long enough.”

Invoking Alex does the trick again, because Michael immediately gets to his feet. He doesn’t wait for Kyle, but he does, twice just in the few yards between the Airstream and the front door, look back over his shoulder to make sure Kyle is following.

They reach the bedroom, Michael almost tripping over his own feet to go to Alex’s side, where he’s sitting once more on the edge of the bed, posture upright and regal, brows drawn down low over his eyes.

“I’m mad at you,” Alex murmurs, not even greeting Michael, just pulling him down onto the bed and rolling with him to ensure that he stays closest to the door, with Michael on the inside. And Michael rolls with him, pliant and willing.

“I know,” is Michael’s subdued response. He reaches out and wraps his hand in Alex’s t-shirt. “I didn’t think about—I’m sorry.”

“I know. And I know you’ll make it up to me.”

“I will. But I shouldn’t have—I know I shouldn’t have. I know better. I’m sorry.”

“Hey. We’re working.”

“I know.”

“Good.”

“We both knew so many things just then. We’re so smart.”

“That’s more like it.” Alex laughs fondly, even if it is still slightly strained. He cups the back of Michael’s neck and pulls him forward so their foreheads touch. He closes his eyes, and Kyle watches as his shoulders rise and fall with a deep exhale. Michael’s eyes drift closed just a moment later, like he couldn’t let himself relax until he saw Alex do so first.

After a long, achingly sweet moment in which Kyle watches both his lovers absorb each other’s presence until they were even breathing in sync, they open their eyes. And Alex reaches an arm out to Kyle, beckoning him closer and into bed.

He pulls Kyle down so, so close, until he can kiss him deep and firm, again and again until Kyle’s knees are shaking under him. Then he finally lets him go, and he says, “Thank you,” even though Kyle doesn’t need to be thanked.

Not when this is thanks enough. He slides into bed on the other side of Michael, leaving a bit of space between them just in case. But he shouldn’t have bothered. The second he settles in, Michael reaches for him, pulling him closer by the waistband of his borrowed sweats, and then he rolls over to cuddle into Alex again, making his ass rub against Kyle’s hip.

Maybe they’ll all agree to amend the no sex test run in the morning, if it’s gonna be like all that.

The bed _is _warmer with Michael in it, so much so that Kyle flings the blanket off himself, only needing that heat of his body to stay comfortable. And it is. It’s _so _comfortable, so soothing and sweet, and all-encompassing, like sliding his body into a hot bath, massaging out aches he hadn’t even noticed until they were gone. He sinks into it, and he’s asleep within moments.

**Author's Note:**

> quite possibly the superhero origin story for kyle "communication warrior" valenti
> 
> discord @ haloud  
tumblr @ cosmicsolipsism


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